How Not to Cure a Headache
by Busby's Teapot
Summary: Ever since Austria came to dinner, Switzerland has been continuously banging his head against hard objects and cursing at random intervals. Poor Liechtenstein is getting worried for her big brother's mental health. Oneshot.


**How Not to Cure a Headache**

**(Insert witty comment about how Busby's Teapot doesn't own Hetalia here)**

**...**

"It tastes like cake," was the anti-climatic response.

"That is not what I meant Vash," Austria replied in a measured tone, narrowing his eyes at the blond.

"Well I think it's lovely Mr Roderich," Liechtenstein said sweetly, taking another forkful of the vanilla sponge to her mouth.

"Why thank you Elise, I have been experimenting with the recipe a little lately."

'No doubt trying to make it as cheap as possible without compromising the flavour,' she thought to herself. Honestly, he and her big brother were as bad as one another. It had taken her three weeks for her to convince Vash to invite Roderich to dinner to repay him for taking them to lunch. Then, all that week, they had been living off the 'Reduced' items - the ones on the verge of going bad - from the supermarket so they would not exceed their weekly food budget in catering for the aristocrat.

After the three finished their desserts (with some minor grumbling from Vash about how if he had known Austria was bringing cake, he would never bought dessert), they retired to the drawing room which held Switzerland's own modestly sized piano.

Roderich had promised them a recital of some Austrian composers' work, but it confused Elise when he began to play Fur Elise (though he did always play it for her when she went to visit Miss Elizabeta). She would have to raise her questions on Beethoven's nationality later.

Meanwhile, she contented herself with observing her companions. Passionate about music, almost to a fault, Roderich had his eyes closed, completely oblivious to anything but the music as his fingers moved, playing the tune from memory.

Her brother, however, looked surprisingly content - though he still sat stiffly, his shoulders had relaxed slightly, his eyes had lost their usual stern look and if one looked very closely, they would be able to see the faintest shadow of a smile playing across his lips.

Smiling herself, Liechtenstein turned back to watch Austria. Deep down, she had always know her brother did not hate him, despite the fact he acted like he did - but that did raise the question of how he really felt...

Before she could come to a plausible answer, Roderich finished playing.

Elise gave a polite clap. "Mr Roderich that was beautiful, as always," she began charmingly, "But I was under the impression that Beethoven was German."

Austria looked at her sternly (she was much to sweet for him to give her the glare he usually gave in response to such a statement.

"He was German by birth, but his heart was Austria, through and through."

To her left, her brother let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like 'bullshit'.

Sensing a brewing argument as Roderich narrowed his eyes, Elise quickly excused herself on the pretense of going to bed.

Vash, locked in his staring match with Roderich, did not even notice that it was only nine o'clock, long before his sister's usual bedtime (and yes, Vash was such a responsible older brother (most of the time, at least) that he made sure his sister had a fairly strict bedtime).

"Well good night then big brother, Mr Roderich, I hope you have sweet dreams!"

Not waiting for a response, she made her way to her room. Once inside, she leaned heavily against her closed door with a sigh, 'What am I going to do for an hour?'

* * *

Liechtenstein's bedroom had been fitted with soundproofing, one of the few expenses Vash had ordered, to cater for his occasional late-night shooting sprees so his dear sister would not be disturbed. The following morning, Elise found herself immensely glad for this feature as soon as she learnt of the reasons for their unanticipated overnight guest.

According to Mr Roderich, he and Switzerland had had a 'slight discrepancy in viewpoint [they] needed to talk out' which translated as a full blown argument with lots of shouting (as all arguments involving her brother had), that by the time they had finished, Vash had refused to allow any foreigners to wander about his country.

Roderich had agreed only because Gilbert had gone out drinking with Britain and Denmark again and he did not particularly fancy being ambushed by a drunken Prussian on his way home.

Once he had left, kindly refusing Liechtenstein's offer of breakfast, her and Vash sat down to eat – the half price cheesecake that was supposed to be dessert the night before since the bread was stale. Elise was slightly worried as when her brother had sat down on his chair, his head had fallen forward and hit the table and he had not moved since.

"Big brother did you not sleep well?"

"No guest beds prepared," he mumbled. "I slept on the couch."

Elise hid her smile as he picked his head back up – even though he was abrupt in manner, he was so kind!

He then started to repeatedly bang his head against the table. Liechtenstein leapt up, begging him to stop.

He did not listen, and in desperation, she wrapped her slender arms around his head, but not even this could make him stop. She let go as he started muttering.

"Stupid." WHACK! "Face." WHACK! "Stupid." WHACK! "Hair." WHACK! "Stupid." WHACK! "Music." WHACK! "Stupid." WHACK! "Eyes." WHACK! "Stupid." WHACK! "Mole." WHACK! "Stupid." WHACK! "Stupid!" WHACK! "STUPID!"

Elise's concern for her older brother ('s sanity) reached a peak as he threw his head back and shouted at the ceiling.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD GODAMMIT!"

With that, he dropped his head onto the table so heavily that the entire room shook and the young blonde was quite sure it had dented the kitchen table.

Meanwhile, Roderich had made his way home, a small smile on his face despite the bucket load of confusion whirring in his mind, giving him a different sort of headache.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost tripped over the bundle on his doorstep.

"How dare you not notice the AWESOME Prussia!" a sleepy Gilbert shouted at him.

Austria sighed heavily, "Gilbert, what are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you the same question."

"Wha- It's my house!"

"Yeah but when the AWESOME Prussia can't go home after a night out because Italy's staying, he expects his un-awesome hermit friend to be home. Not out and coming home in the morning."

Did Gilbert seriously just waggle his eyebrows?

Roderich pinched his temples – it was far too early in the morning for Prussia.

"I told you yesterday – I had dinner at Switzerland's house."

"Oh."

He felt a strange sense of doom in the pit of his stomach as Gilbert's grin turned even more perverse than France's.

"I didn't know it was customary in Switzerland to eat wurst _after_ dessert."

Roderich's face turned so red hot, it could have been used to fry eggs and he started spluttering unattractively, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

"GILBERT THAT IS DISGUSTING!"

The ex-nation backed away slightly, mildly fearful that his friend would combust and he would end up with bits of Austria in his awesome hair.

"NOTHING OF THE SORT HAPPENED!"

"Okay Roddy ," he relented, raising his hands in surrender. However, as Austria stood there, purple in the face, with his vein throbbing dangerously at his temple, he bore a such shocking resemblance to Ludwig in a bad mood, that he couldn't help one last little taunt.

"But the fact you're so angry means you've at least thought about it, right?"

.

.

.

Gilbert collapsed against the doorframe, panting from exertion.

He didn't know the hermit could run so fast – normally her got puffed walking from one end of his house to the other.

Glancing around to make sure he was alone, he heaved a sigh of relief, thankful he had finally lost the enraged aristocrat and knocked upon the door.

It opened sooner than anticipated and he fell in, sprawled on the floor and looking up into a pair of weary blue eyes.

"Mon ami, what have you done now?"

"Never… Roderich…Sex…Vash…" he heaved in a way that would have been completely pathetic and un-awesome had he not been Prussia (because everything he does is automatically AWESOME!)

"Finalement!" Francis cried with a jovial (and slightly perverse, but since when is that unusual for France?) grin.

"No… but asked if they did… Roderich got a little bit defensive…"

"Zut alors! Those two, they are such a headache," France dramatically threw his arm up to cover his eyes. "You would think, being my neighbour, cher Suisse would know more about the language of love."

"Prussia dude! Hi!" the ever-loud voice of America asked. "Why are you on the floor?"

The beaming, bespectacled face of his rival for 'Most AWESOME in the World' appeared above him beside Francis.

Gilbert, still lying on the floor, shrugged as best he could. "Why are you here Alfie?"

"Oh dude, Francis is just giving me some totally awesome advice!"

"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow at his friend. "For what?"

"Angleterre."

From his position on the floor, Gilbert only just caught the pink that stained Alfred's cheeks before the man hastily retreated back to France's sitting room.

Prussia sighed and lifted himself off the floor slowly. At least the run seemed to have cured his hangover.

"I saw Britain last night you know," he said to France nonchalantly, but loud enough so America could hear. "He went out with me and Denmark. Wanted to drink himself into oblivion over something. Or rather _someone._"

Francis smirked, playing along. "Oh really, who?"

"Just a former colony of his, I think."

Both grinned evilly as there was a loud crash in the sitting room. Gilbert had no doubt America had just fallen off his chair.

"I shall go deal with lover boy in there, you can hide out in the kitchen until you want to go home," Francis said with a smile. "There's still some of your beer in the fridge from last week – help yourself."

"You are awesome!" Gilbert cried, not bothering to argue that he wasn't going to be hiding (AWESOME people didn't hide) and bounded down the hallway to the kitchen.

He helped himself to a beer from the fridge and a large packet of crisps from the cupboard and then sat down at one of the chairs, resting his booted feet up on the table.

'A bit of revenge sounds good,' he thought, pulling out his phone and scrolling through to find the correct contact. They picked up on the first ring.

"Gilbert?"

"Guess where your dear ex-husband slept last night…" he drawled.

There was a very uncharacteristic squeal from the other line. "I know! Oddly enough, I'm in Vash's kitchen right now with dear Elise."

"What's that hammering?"

"Oh that's just Vash. Well his head actually, he's been at it all morning."

Gilbert chortled.

"And get this – he gave up his bed for Roddy last night and slept on the couch!"

He started spluttering in surprise at the thought of Vash doing something so… un-Vash-like. "Is the world coming to an end?" he was finally able to exclaim.

"Well I implied that Roddy dear had been enjoying some of the finest Swiss sausage." Elizabeta snorted loudly. "And he chased me halfway across Europe – I'm in Francis' kitchen now."

"What hiding?" she teased. "You're not scared of Roddy are you Gil?"

Prussia bolted upright. "The AWESOME Prussia is scared of NO-ONE!" he yelled into his mobile. "Especially not your poncy ex-husband!"

The line went dead as he hung up on her. Hungary just stared at her phone in amusement – oh how she loved how touchy he was.

She stood up, turning to her companion with a smile. "Well Elise dear, I need to be off, best check on Roderich. Do let me know if your brother is still trying to liquidise his brain tomorrow."

The young girl smiled brightly. "Okay Eliza, I'll speak to you tomorrow."

Liechtenstein showed her to the door, waiting until her friend had disappeared from view to return inside. Glad to hear the thumping had subsided, at least for a little while, she headed back to the kitchen to prepare some dinner.

Hungary meanwhile, skipped along the way to Austria's house, her mind full of sugary sweet images of love confession and Vash finding inappropriate uses for melted Swiss chocolate. The loud sound of a piano drew her from a particularly steamy day-dream to find she had already reached her destination.

Smirking as she realised what he was doing, she discreetly wiped her nose. Whilst she had still been married to Roderich, she had discovered his nasty habit – playing loudly upon the piano to drown out any thoughts that worried or confused him.

Using the key she had to his house, she let herself in quietly and headed straight for the music room. Roderich failed to notice her entrance, so she crept up and then plonked herself down on the bench, laughing as he jumped in surprise and hit a sour note.

"Elizabeta, you scared me!" he admonished her. Taking a deep breath, he added, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Just a friendly visit," she said in a sly tone that implied otherwise and her eyes lit up mischievously. Hungary was probably up to something, then again, nowadays, she was always up to something. Still, it didn't hurt to be on his guard.

"You're playing your piano awfully loud Roderich, is something bothering you?"

Oh yes, she was most definitely up to something.

"Not at all," he lied easily.

"Really?" she replied. "So is it just a coincidence that last night was your dinner with Switzerland?"

Oh his ex-wife was a tricky bitch, especially when it came to that unhealthy obsession with gay relationships.

Sure Vash was a handsome man (most people were just too scared to notice), but Elizabeta needed to get it into her head that they were just friends. Friends. As in completely platonic. Not once had he ever envisioned grabbing the blond and kissing him passionately until both were breathless.

Nope.

…

Coughing awkwardly, Roderich glanced shiftily to the side. He pulled at his collar, suddenly feeling rather warm.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Hungary heaved a sigh, not convinced in the slightest. "Denial is not just a river in Egypt."

Austria stood up suddenly and glared at her hotly.

"I am not in denial about Vash!"

"So you admit you're completely in love with him and desperately want to invade his vital regions then?"

"I don't want to invade anyone's vital regions!" he protested, his face crimson, and stomped out the room in an uncharacteristic display of immaturity.

Hungary just smiled to herself triumphantly – he didn't deny being completely in love.

* * *

"GODAMMIT!" a voice yelled into the night.

Elise sat bolt upright in bed, glaring at her door, which had swung open slightly, letting in the noise, and then at the clock.

What was her big brother doing, shouting at two o'clock in the morning?

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD, YOU STUPID MAN!"

Elise giggled to herself and lay back down, as she remembered what Miss Elizabeta had said. Her brother was such an idiot! Either that, or more stubborn than Mr Britain was to admit his cooking was terrible.

She considered it as she stared up at the ceiling. A mixture of the two, more likely.

Yes, a stubborn idiot who liked Mr Roderich lots.

Falling asleep smiling, she dreamt of her brother's rare, but dazzling, smile as he watched Austria play a beautiful and romantic piece on a grand piano, surrounded by roses and candlelight.

In the morning, however, she was woken up as the banging started up again.

Heaving a sigh, she slipped on her dressing gown and made her way down to the corridor to Switzerland's study. Perhaps if she just asked him about it…

"Big brother?" she began cautiously.

He stopped abruptly, looking up to give her a tired smile.

"Yes?"

"Who is it you can't get out of your head?" she asked, her eyes wide and innocent.

Of course, she knew exactly who it was, but as Miss Elizabeta had always said, some people needed to say things out loud in order to really come to terms with them. Elise didn't really understand this, after all, she never had any feelings she ever wanted to repress.

There was silence as Vash frowned at his hands, mind whirring as he considered whether to reply or not, even though, he would never have it in him to deny his sister anything.

"Roderich," he answered eventually.

"Are they good or bad thoughts?"

"…good."

Too good, so good they were technically bad for the adverse effect they were having on his poor confused brain. Although some of them were also bad in that they contained elements of France-rated content.

Liechtenstein smiled happily, "Well that's good big brother!"

He blinked at her, not really following.

"You can be friends with Mr Roderich again," she explained. "If you can't stop thinking good things about him, that means you obviously still care about him right?"

The earlier confusion melted away and the answer, the horrifyingly wonderful answer stared him straight in the face.

"OH HELL NO!"

Startling Elise, he started thumping again, more violently than before. She quickly scurried to the phone to ring Hungary.

"Miss Elizabeta, he won't stop!" she said frantically. "He got worse!"

"He did? When?"

Elise frowned slightly – she didn't need to sound so happy about it.

"Well, I remembered what you said about some people needing to say things out loud, but after he admitted he can't get Mr Roderich out of his head and I said it was because he still cared for him, he shouted at the ceiling and then started banging his head again," she recounted, rambling a little in her panicked state.

Wincing, Elise pulled the phone away from her ear as Hungary started squealing loudly.

"Miss Elizabeta please," she begged, once the squealing had subsided a little.

"Okay Elise dear, I'll do my best."

She withheld a gulp at how strangely ominous her friend sounded.

"I have a plan – you just leave it all to me…"

Elise was left blinking at the phone as the line went dead.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she started towards the kitchen.

As Miss Elizabeta said, it was all under control – she had nothing to worry about, right?

* * *

Roderich blinked at the door in front of him as he tried to remember how he had got there. Oh that's right – his ex-wife's threats of blackmail and frying-pan related violence.

With a resigned sigh, he rapped upon the door and gave a pleasant smile when Liechtenstein answered.

"Oh hello Mr Roderich, to what do we owe the pleasure?"

He gave her a confused glance, "Elizabeta told me that you said I should come pick up the Tupperware container I brought my cake in the other day."

Elise blinked up at him, maybe this was part of Miss Elizabeta's plan, she had received a message on her phone earlier saying simply 'Play along'.

"Oh yes, I didn't expect you so early," she recovered easily, ignoring the fact it was two o'clock in the afternoon. "I haven't washed it yet, but if you like you can have some tea whilst I clean the dishes – it may take a while though, we have a fair amount."

Of course, Austria, ever the gentlemen, could not refuse such a generous offer (and him staying would also mean he saved on washing-up liquid).

As he entered the house, he picked up on a loud, repetitive thumping and enquired as to what it was.

"Oh that is big brother," Elise answered. She thought better of mentioning it was because of their guest, but instead added, "It is really strange, he has been doing that a lot since you left yesterday morning."

At her comment, a small smile –that he could neither help nor explain – played upon his lips, though perhaps it was because he was glad he was not the only one affected by the dinner.

No matter how loud he played on his piano, he just couldn't get that stoic face out of his mind.

* * *

Vash continued bashing his head in a hope that he could make himself forget the rather unnerving revelation he just had. Of course, his plan was a terrible one and he had a terrible, terrible headache as well as that little epiphany dancing around his brain, taunting him in a way that was disturbingly like Gilbert.

He glared for a moment at a pencil on his desk as he listened closely – was that a piano? Was he hallucinating now as well?

Certainly, his sister could not play so well yet, and it was much too soon for Roderich to visit again.

He groaned, standing and deciding to go investigate – if not, he could probably do with some aspirin.

Of course Vash wasn't to know that it was actually Roderich – Liechtenstein had asked him to play for her whilst she finished off the dishes.

Entering into his drawing room, Vash stopped still at the sight of aristocrat, bathed in the golden glow of the early-afternoon sun. The blond groaned and let his head smack against the doorframe. The stupid man had turned his mind to mush!

Roderich stopped suddenly at the sound and turned around.

"Good afternoon Vash."

Green eyes narrowed at him. "What are you doing here?" he all but sneered.

"Picking up my Tupperware, Elise is just finishing washing it for me."

"Oh."

Vash was glad he didn't sound too disappointed after all, he didn't care about Austria's presence either way. Really, he didn't.

"You weren't thinking I'd come to see you were you?" he asked jokingly. Immediately he berated himself for in his attempt to sound not in the least bit hopeful, he had instead come across as patronising.

Surprisingly, Vash did not react at all, save for a grunt.

Silence descended upon them. Roderich stared dazedly at the piano, his fingers ghosting over the keys without knowing what to play.

The bench creaked as Switzerland sat down. It was battered and worn, having belonged to Austria, which Vash had bought from him for Elise when she had asked him for a piano.

Whipping around to face him, Austria was shocked to see the slightest of smiles upon the blond's face. The man then sighed, pulling out a white handkerchief and swiping a microscopic smudge off Roderich's cheek.

"Honestly, you still can't take care of yourself dummy," he chided gently.

Vash went to move away, but Roderich grasped his wrist quickly, leaning into the touch slightly, his features relaxed and content.

Both seemed to realise something at the same moment, eyes widening comically. They stayed like that, staring shell-shocked into each other's eyes until Vash turned away, blushing as he tugged his hand out of Roderich's grasp.

Roderich swallowed thickly, "You know I would never come this far for just a Tupperware box."

Vash's head snapped back to face him and he found himself returning the brunet's tentative smile.

"What would you come this far for then?"

"You," he replied without thinking.

His violet eyes widened as he realised what he had just said, and his gaze dropped down to his hands.

He could feel the burn of Vash's green eyes on him as he hid his embarrassment with a spontaneous and frantic tune.

As tumultuous as the music, Vash's thoughts quickly scrambled around for something to do or say or think, but he was distracted as the little dancing Gilbert started squealing and jumping up and down in glee. When the only response his brain could suggest was to kiss the infuriating aristocrat, he groaned and let his head fall forward, slamming into the ivory keys and abruptly stopping the Austrian's skilful playing.

"Vash?" he asked worriedly.

There was silence, except for the lingering notes from the keys held down by Vash's head. His messy hair had fallen forward, hiding his expression from Roderich's view.

"Can I punch you?" he muttered, still face down.

Did he just hear right? Why on earth would Vash wish to punch him? He didn't think he was that annoying, and it certainly couldn't be what happened earlier, because if anything, Roderich should get to punch Vash for not offering any response other than abusing the piano.

"Why?"

"Because if I mess up your pretty face, maybe it'll leave my damn mind!"

Vash continued to stare at the carpet, desperately not wanting to meet those violet eyes that he could feel boring into him.

When Roderich offered no response, he looked up to glare at him and was shocked as a pair of warm lips met his own briefly before pulling away again.

Vash blinked in confusion for a moment, then smiled, a full real smile, watching as his companion's hands danced across the keys of the piano, drawing from it an airy, romantic melody.

Roderich had always preferred to use music over words.

And Vash, he preferred actions, brass and bold. Much like what he did next, pulling Roderich from his music and tackling him to the ground in a passionate kiss.

Roderich gasped in surprised delight and Vash took this as an opportunity to slide his tongue into the Austrian's mouth, starting and intense battle for dominance that raged until the need for air arose.

The blond pulled away, panting heavily and stared down into Roderich's eyes, which like his had darkened considerably. Trailing his hand over his cream shirt, Vash stopped over Roderich's heart, beating frantically like his own.

He locked eyes with Roderich again, smiling gently. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Roderich's lips curled up into a seductive smirk and he flipped them over, so he could trail kisses over Vash's jaw line. "We have to work up an appetite first."

* * *

Liechtenstein puffed to herself as she placed the last of her now sparkling pans back in the cupboard. The piano music had stopped a while ago, just after her brother had come down, and so she had contented herself with singing, hoping to two were not arguing – she could hear some muffled shouts coming from the drawing room.

She guessed Mr Roderich would be staying for dinner again, and so she began pulling various ingredients from the cupboard and the fridge, but was interrupted as the doorbell rang. Quickly she made her way to greet whoever it was.

It was Gilbert.

"Hey ho, little Liechty, how about a hug for your awesome uncle Gilbert?"

The young girl grinned widely, flinging her arms around Prussia.

"Why are you here Mr Gil?"

"I have come for the ponce, Lizzy said he was here."

Elise smiled sweetly, "He is, he should be in the drawing room, but I think he may be having another argument with big brother."

"Thanks little missy," Prussia said over his shoulder, strutting off down the hall. He paused as he heard a bizarre, jumped tune intermixed with muffled shouts – maybe Switzerland was playing?

He crossed the threshold and froze, his mind whirring to try and catch up with what his eyes were seeing.

Well that certainly WASN'T arguing.

Back in the kitchen, Elise had continued with her task, continuing to pull various ingredients out, humming a happy tune to herself. The peace was broken by screaming and shouting that ripped through the house's thick walls and made Liechtenstein drop a schnitzel on the floor.

"MY EYES! MYT AWESOME EYES, THEY ARE MELTING! OH FAREWELL MY DEAR SWEET INNOCENCE!"

Elise groaned, picking the food off the floor as she listened to Gilbert loudly make his way out of the house.

She sincerely doubted he was as innocent as he claimed – he was very good friends with Mr France after all.

**FIN**

**A/N: I feel a bit bad for Gilbert in this. So this whole thing was a bit random and grew out of me watching episodes 24 and 25 of Hetalia and thinking dear little Liechtenstein is much too nice not to invite Austria to dinner in return. With regards to her name, I chose Elise because I like the idea of Austria playing Fur Elise for her whenever he sees her. **

**Well I hoped you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!**

**Teapot**


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